Failed Mission
by pwndepug
Summary: Read if you want.


The Failed Mission

_56 minutes 12 seconds and 3 candy bars eaten waiting in line_

He looked at the yellow paper before him and sighed. How many times now had he looked over this list in grave disappointment to his options. Was he not high enough in the ranks, had he not gained enough seniority through the years of labor. He believed he had, he knew he deserved better than this, and by God he was going to complain when he reached the front of the line. He knew exactly what to say, first he would say...he would say... Well he would say something, he just hadn't had enough time to think of it. But he would be ready when he got to the front of the line, he just needed to remember to raise his voice and shake his fist. His thoughts drifted back to horrid insults and threats he would make to the department as his eyes scanned over the gray building he stood in.

Men, women, and one ambiguous individual were standing in lines, glassy eye and muttering to themselves. He began to wonder if they all had a similar complaint or were they just here to get their forums stamped and finish their days in a dull peace. None of them looked outraged, like he did, or at least how he hoped he did. They all seemed content to wait with their papers staring at shoes, hands, or through the veil of nothingness that emanated with in the building.

"42" "42". **"Last call for 42"**

Woken from silence he wandered toward the desk away from the line and veil. Closer he came till the plaque reading Department of Placement was clearly seen. Setting his forums down he cleared his throat, raised his fist, and found just the perfect words for the situation.

"BAMM!" Echoed through his mind, glancing down he saw his stamped forum and was ushered to the side then out to the hall. He had not uttered one word, not one threat, not one anything.

In utter astonishment he stood, for three hours he had waited in that dank room and this is what he got. He eyed the paper feeling the seal of approval burn into eyes. His mind filled with dread, what had he done to deserve this, had he not pleased the master, had he flow too close to the sun and this was his payment.

Slowly he felt his body begin to disappear, the world went fuzzy and sparkles flashed by his eyes. In last ditch effort before his new life began he called out. "_Valet infernus_"

—

_2 hours 7 minutes 3 seconds before birth_

Reincarnation, rebirth, the use of phoenix down, what ever people had decided to call it was annoying at best. The swirling images and vast colors zooming by often left the about to be born in a state of pure nausea. Glancing a head he saw the darken pit as the colors faded and the meaning of life vanished from his memory. Looking up into the void he spoke a simple request "_I hope I'm a girl. I would like to try it out at least once_. _It seems so much more entertaining."_

—

_3 months 12 days 39 seconds after birth_

It was warm, and peaceful like nothing he had experienced before. He would have loved to stay here and enjoy the simple life he had been given. He knew what awaited for him when he opened his eyes and he knew his mission. He was to open the gate for his master so he may raise the horsemen, and commence the end of the world. But that was concern for another time, now he must focus on the life a head of him.

His head wobbled uncontrollably as he tried to turn it to the sound of heels. They clacked in his mind, rattling down this spine to the pit his of stomach, stirring up delightful memories of cloven hoofs. But he knew he must open eyes and accept the fate he had been given, despite the over whelming tranquility the sound caused in his tiny body. Slowly his eyes fluttered open, colors swirled and light invaded his senses. It was terrifying yet joyful, it was utter bliss. Oh how he wished this had lasted, but he had a mission and he must now face the truest of horror he could imagine.

Sparkling orbs of jewels and a smell of _Red Door_ invaded his cocoon shattering the remaining moments of lighted emotions. Standing above him was Elizabeth Haile, the heiress whose Grandfather had invented a type of Viagra knock-off (_this often caused erection lasting for over 6 hours followed by quick trips to emergency_). Here with earring swinging and bejeweled shirt glinting the letters S.E.X.Y-B.E.A.S.T in the bright white LED light stood his new "mother". An here he lay the child of some pseudo-celebrity, whom held more self indulgence than a fat dog at a dinning table.

A small burp escaped his tiny lips and he submitted to his new life as nothing more than a fad for a women with more plastic than any God had ever planned for humankind.

—

_10 years 13 days 102 seconds after birth_

Bloooop….beep...Bloooop...beep...Bloooop

The white ball bounced back and forth across the black static of the screen. Surround by a treasury of toys, candies, and electronics stood a small boy. The boy was fit for his age, with broad shoulders and a tuff of auburn hair that would make any sixth grade girl weak in the knees. Here stood the son of Miss. Haile, heiress, model, fashion designer, and most currently a reality T.V. star. Standing behind the boy were two cameramen checking their equipment, as the boy pondered the game before his eyes.

" Hurry up will you, we're losing day light and that kid ain't gonna stand there all day."

"Yeah...yeah. It will get done don't worry. Don't you have the pool party to get ready for."

"I was hoping we were filming that, I heard some of those centerfold type girls are showing up."

"What there are centerfolds? I had them scheduled for next Friday with the pool party."

He stood there and listened to the men whine on about their work and desire to see drunken women show their esteem issues to the camera. It had been ten years since he waited in line and felt the sting of depression that one stamp could place upon the body. It was here boredom encompassed his life, and it was through this wretched women he called "mother" he would gain the power to finish his mission. This would be one of the many small steps he needed to complete to gain his reward to earn the true prize. His ohh so wonderful, glorious, devious prize. How he would enjoy every possible moment of his...PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES...

GRRRRRRBLRUPBULM! These thought were interrupted by the gargling in his lower ileum. Deciding it was time to fetch the nanny he wandered off leaving the cameramen in a rush to finish their work filming his dull life, then adding to creative pop music normally inspired by the Jewish raper G-unit.

He loved to mess up their work and destroy their chances at his mother's intoxicated friends by leaving various sexual assault counselor's phone numbers on their hands with the phrase "Call me babe". He thought it did a service to the world, he educated women who other wise may not know what to do and punished those whom had preyed upon them. Not the evilest thing a being from hell could have done, but enough of troll cultural to add some entertainment to his dull life. It also brought a slight smile to his face seeing the police tear the camera away from their faces and tow them off to a world unknown to a person of his wealth.

He turned the corner and saw that Mathew the nanny was waiting in the kitchen for him, with pancakes ready to go for the day ahead of them. It was the one thing he hoped wouldn't be destroyed or turned into something evil when the Master returned. He loved pancakes, perhaps too much seeing how pictures of various stacks graced the walls of his room. Occasionally he would pretend to work at a Denny's flipping the griddle cakes into golden perfection. This was such a pleasant idea he had even thought of asking the Master for this as his reward for the years of service. He could see it now, left of the river Styx, he would set his pancake house where he could live out his immortality doing such a simple task. He would, of course, keep the evil theme his Master so loved in the pancake house. By having a sign saying anyone could be turned away for service. Then he would turn away every tenth costumer and not tell them why, just that they were not welcome here. It would slowly cripple their esteem as they walked away wondering what had been so wrong with them that they were not allowed these pancakes or even the chance to get through the door. It would be delightful and completely self-inflicted by the clients.

"Wait I don't just want more B-roll of this kid and some flap jacks. What is wrong with him, I swear that all that he eats." screeched a voice breaking him from the inner thoughts of flour and liquid sugar. The cameramen had finally caught up and were to commence with his daily humiliation on this "reality" T.V. Show. He would wonder how it could be reality with how often he was instructed on what needed to be done in this shot or to go and re-do an action because the lighting was off. He could no longer count the amount of times he had been asked to re-brush his teeth, tie his shoes, or hold his fingers in odd shapes forming crude symbols of directions.

He sighed one day he would have his dream and possibly get to witness the prolonged deaths of these cameramen, but you can't have everything you want.

—

_45 years 30 day 12 seconds after birth_

**_Found Dead in the bottom of a Macy's Stairwell_**, was the headline that morning concerning the death of a young heiress by the name of Elizabeth Haile. The article went on to state her few accomplishments and how her middle aged son had been left with a vast fortune despite the fall-out between them four years ago. Everything was ready, the money was his and the cult had their Kool-aid in the red solo cups excited to drink down the bitter nectar and give themselves to the summoning. Yet he did want to do this, he didn't want to destroy the world, at least not yet. There was still so much he had yet to do: he had not seen all of _Friends_, he had not gotten sufficiently lost in Ikea, he had not even picked his toes, Mathew had always done it why hadn't he. These tasks were to important enough for him to stop everything to free a devil errr... he meant Master. To go back to the ilk of a life he had once had. No, he had the money, he had the cult, he had the power, and he was drawing the circle of summoning. Why should he give up, for some two-bit demon whom mortals could not even describe correctly, how silly it was to think that his Master errrr... he meant devil no wait it was Master, was a goat of some sort. He looked at the white line under him as his lungs heaved out ragged breaths. His world began to spin, his heart pounded then blackness encompassed him.

"Sir. Sir can you hear me? Its Mathew Sir, are you okay?" was the only sound he could hear as light inched in way beyond his eyes into his nerves straight to his brain. Looking up he saw what he knew was Mathew and the robed figures of his cult standing behind the man. He knew what his mission was, he knew what he had to do. But Ikea, the toes, the pancakes. He hadn't thought about the pancakes, he loved them, **he wouldn't give them up**.

"Gents, Ladies, and what I believe is dog licking himself in the corner. I had been told by the great one that... he made a mistake. The correct summoning date is wrong. He apologizes, you know how the government works, sometimes dates get mixed up and people are told the wrong things. Although, you will be compensated for your time and travel and we thank those who brought their children with them for the sacrifice. You are all very beloved by the Master. Now I have to go in this general direction. No question please, I need to be alone. So everyone have a good day, if you still want to kill yourselves the building is quite high. I think that will work if not I am so sorry you didn't die_._"

He shuddered out and quickly exited left. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked through the silk that some over zealous follower had demanded he wear on the grounds of fashion. But despite the dampness and chaffing he had done it, he had left his duty unfulfilled leaving him nothing but time. He smiled and laughed, leaving the room with a grand idea for his eternal happiness. Knowing pancakes would get him through the steps in undetermined mission less life. He took a deep breath, stepping into the world that lay before him with little to most likely no plan at all. He hopped to what ever higher power (excluding his master) that he wouldn't fail and live the rest of his life under a flyover next to the river.

_The hall of higher powers_

_All were gather to approve wishes. When his came up none voted for approval. Instead his case was moved to be look at later in life_

—

_90 years 12 day 00 seconds after birth_

"You bastard, how could you. Why, why my sister." Yelled the women. He turned no longer caring for the hysterics for some simple women he had found at a club. He had other things to do, there was a event at the plaza soon, it was said to be the party of the year and there was no way he would miss this social event. He had to plan the new opening of the Minion Flap Jacks in Denver. He needed to call Mathew, to meet with the Germans, to…..

Bratatatat

—

_9 hours 12 minutes 4 seconds after death_

"Bureaucracy what a fine institution" he laughed. Despite his traitorous ways and decimation to the evil image his Master had built for centuries it would take weeks for him to be in the que for punishment. Which would only work it all the t's were crossed and no federal holidays intersected with his return to hell. He knew that it would years maybe even decades before his case was seen or any real punishment given. Instead he would spend his time in lock down home slowly drowning in veil of nothingness watching people as they lived what they believed the most wonderful of lives for the simple fact it was an immortal one. He wouldn't claim to know what a life was or any sort of meaning, in fact if anyone looked back on his mortal one they would vomit at sight of his hedonism and passive aggressive ways. No he had done as he pleased, wasted a vast fortune on frivolities, but he had loved it and would gladly wait for a chance to redeem his failings so he may do it all over again.

He took a number from the counter. It said 42.

"_Man what I wouldn't do for a candy bar and a good pair of shoes"._


End file.
